


The police has nothing on our running shoes

by tetsuskitten



Series: Jazz it up [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Graffiter Bokuto, M/M, Slice of Life, Writer Kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsuskitten/pseuds/tetsuskitten
Summary: A strange encounter between a writer and a graffiter.





	The police has nothing on our running shoes

Bokuto had been scouting a good place for his next graffiti and a few days ago he found a secluded place little ways down from the beach. The walls were empty and the place smelled salty from the ocean.  

He arrived and put down his bag full of paint cans. Grabbing his phone, he selected the 90’s boom bap instrumental playlist he’d made for when he’s painting, giving him the relaxed vibe he needed. As the music came on, his body swayed with it, feeling the beat hit his ears, he took a deep breath.

He grabbed the red ink can and began outlining the letters, and then spray painting the inside of each of them. As he grabbed the black ink, he outlined the letters and made each individual one stand out. His graffiti spelled “Ikari” in a bold red. He took a few steps back to admire his work so far and realized he had company. Startled, he took of his earphones and stared at the guy behind him, leaning against the opposite wall and scribbling in his notebook.

“Excuse me.” Even though the stranger heard him, he didn’t make a move to look up. He finished off what was probably a sentence, doing a flourish with his wrist at the end and then looking dead pan at an intrigued Bokuto.

The guy raised his eyebrows, seemingly waiting for Bokuto to go on and keeping his voice to himself.

“I’m busy here, you know.”

“So am I.” The guy stated, matter of fact and Bokuto had no idea how he was supposed to make the other go away.

“Can you get busy somewhere else?”

“I can’t, no.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because the inspiration’s here.”

Bokuto frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I like watching you paint.”

Bokuto opened his mouth about three times before realizing he didn’t have anything to say and that his heart had started to pound at an elevated rhythm which was, at the least, preoccupying.

His official decision was to ignore the statement, put back his earphones and leave the guy be, going back to his graffiti waiting to be finished. He took the first step towards detailing and as the bass hit, his feet moved on their own. He seemed to forget he had company and the other didn’t make himself noticed either. He was almost done but there was one more thing left to be done. On the top of his paintings, he drew a little crown. It was somehow, a signature thing. As he was about to get started, a hand touched his shoulder. He took out one of his earphones and an alarmed face looked at him.

“Someone’s coming.” The notebook guy told him.

Taking out both earphones, he looked around at every exit and entering point, listening for steps and attentive to a figure arriving. Carefully, he closed the bottle he had in hand and placed it in the bag, slowly, but with an audible clicking sound. The steps seemed to get faster and he noted a light flickering, that could only be from a flashlight in the dark of the night and no one walked around with that unless you were a cop.

He zipped up his bag, grabbed it in one hand and in the other reached for the other guy. Maybe it was instinct or something else, he could’ve just run off alone but for some reason, he didn’t.

“We gotta run.” He whispered. And from the corner of his eye he saw a smile rip in the other man’s face as they both took off. They ran on the opposite direction of the steps coming for them and five minutes later they saw the outline of the beach. They looked at each other and with a daring smile, sprinted towards the sand and the open ocean.

The race ended up being head to head and neither of them bothered with futile things such as winning. They sat down near the water and caught their breath in silence.

“What were you writing?” Bokuto’s curious voice rang through the dead of night, as the thought was now nagging at him.

“The outline of a new character.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’ll show you when it’s finished.”

And that seemed good enough for Bokuto.

“What’s your name?”

“Kuroo.”

“You’re a writer, Kuroo?”

“I try to be.”

“Do you always watch strange people in the street like a creep for your stories?”

Kuroo laughed, his shoulders shaking.

“Mostly, yeah.”

 

“Let’s take a dip.” Bokuto suggested.

“I don’t have swimming shorts.”

“Neither do I.”

“I am not going home all wet.”

“Then take them off.”

“I don’t even know your name, what makes you think I’d go skinny dipping with you?”

“It’s Bokuto. And you don’t have to, if you want you can just stare at my ass as I go, like the creep you are.”

“You’re annoying, you know that, _Bokuto_?”

“I am aware of that, yes, now are you coming?” Bokuto asked as he stripped of his hoodie and his t-shirt.

“Yeah.” Kuroo agreed as he stripped naked, as well.

As expected the water was cool but it was a summer night and it was, somehow, refreshing.

“What do you do for a living?” Kuroo asked, sure no one lived off graffitiing.

“I manage a museum of contemporary art.”

“And in your free time, you deface walls.”

“I’m doing the city a favor.”

Kuroo smiled but didn’t answer, he silently agreed, he could see how talented Bokuto was and how much he loved his work from the concentration he put into it.

“Are you a published author?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of things do you write?”

“Crime novels.”

“Pegged you more for a sci-fi guy.”

“I prefer writing about what my eyes can see.”

“Fair enough.”

As they got out of the water, the cold air of the night hit their bodies, making goosebumps appear all over them.

“We’re gonna freeze to death, dude.”

Kuroo whined but Bokuto went to his bag, crouching and unzipping it, pulling out a towel and drying himself off. When he was done, he threw it at a shaking Kuroo, who was already sniffling.

“You do this often enough you bring a towel?”

“I’m usually alone but yes.”

“Sorry I barged in on your usual routine.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

They got dressed, laced their shoes, and went opposite ways.

That night, Kuroo wrote his new character well into the early hours of the morning and Bokuto reminded himself he had to finish his crown. They both thought back on the strange encounter and wondered if they’d see each other again in the near future.


End file.
